


A Lesson in Gentleness

by Nigmuff



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Avengers Vol. 8 (2018), Canon Compliant, Gen, Introspection, aka my favorite tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigmuff/pseuds/Nigmuff
Summary: The Avengers have accidentally acquired a newborn baby, and Steve has temporarily assumed responsibility for it. He thinks about the past, the future, and the fragility of human life.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	A Lesson in Gentleness

**Author's Note:**

> So I was scrolling through Tumblr the other day, minding my own business, when I was hit in the face with pictures of Steve holding a baby! How dare!!!! How dare there be canonical baby acquisition! How dare I be faced with pictures of beefy Steve holding a tiny baby! In my own home!!!!!
> 
> Anyway, as you can tell, I had A LOT OF EMOTIONS over those pictures, and I had to process through fic. Thanks to Cathalinaheart for the excellent beta! Hope you enjoy my many emotions <3
> 
> As for canon notes, this takes place directly after Avengers (2018) issue 30. Spoilers for that issue: the Starbrand (a universe ending superpower) chose a pregnant immigrant woman in space to be its host. She dies in childbirth, and the making the baby the new host. The Avengers take the baby in, because the baby has no next of kin, and also no normal person would be capable of caring for such a dangerous creature. More importantly, go check out pictures of Steve holding the baby.

Steve calls her sweetheart, baby doll,  _ babaidh _ ,  _ a chuisle _ . The names remind him of years long gone, like the names his mother used to call him, and he finds himself in a nostalgic mood. (She doesn’t have a name yet. Everyone seems to be of the opinion that if you name something, you claim it for yourself. No one wants to name her.)

  


“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve urges, voice softer than he thought himself capable of. It’s a far cry from the voice he uses in battle, which he’s used much more. “Lunchtime.” 

  


It takes a few tries, but finally the baby is convinced that the bottle contains food, and she latches onto the nipple, sucking away enthusiastically. Steve doesn’t exactly sigh in relief, but he does relax a bit. 

  


For the first 48 hours of the baby’s life, Steve did not sleep. He knew that physical contact was very important for babies, so he only put her down for important things, like checkups and diaper changes. Otherwise, he had her in his arms, gently rocking her. Every time she cried, he imagined she was crying for her dead mother, and he couldn’t put her down. 

  


He didn’t even notice the time passing, the serum keeping him going strong, until T’Challa passed by and told him he had to sleep. Since then, T’Challa had set up a schedule for all the Avengers to pitch in taking care of the baby, one of the most dangerous living creatures in the universe. He also set up a Babies 101 workshop, where they all learned how to change her diapers and make her formula milk. Despite that, Steve spends the most time with her.

  


Steve watches the bottle as she drinks, making sure to tilt it so that she doesn’t get any air bubbles. Stuck in a room with just a baby for company, Steve has been reflecting a lot recently. Like, how something so small and helpless can exist. She’s the next Starbrand, the most powerful force in the universe -- and she can’t even sit up by herself. She can’t move, she can’t feed herself, she can’t do much of anything. She eats, sleeps, poops, and stares at people with a startling intensity. She made Robbie lose track of what he was saying once just by staring. Steve had been kind of proud of her. 

  


She does so now, staring up at Steve with her blue eyes. Steve smiles down at her.

  


“Hey, baby doll,” he coos. The baby blinks. “How’s it going? Hear any interesting news today? Do exciting things? I hope the milk is to your liking… oh.”

  


She’s got his finger in her surprisingly strong grasp. The sight takes his breath away; her whole, entire hand is wrapped around one of his fingers, and she can’t even close her hand the whole way. He feels big and ungainly, too destructive and violent to take care of this small, innocent child. Her eyes stare up at him with complete trust and confidence, the kind of trust that’s so complete because it knows no other way. He can’t take it, sometimes, the way his arms seem to swallow her. He’s still learning how hard he can hold her; he feels all the time like he’s too tight, too constricting. A nurse had to tell him that he was holding her too loose and that babies prefer a firmer hold. She mouths at his hard chest sometimes when she’s hungry, and he wants to apologize.  _ I’m sorry,  _ a chuisle,  _ it’s all I have to offer.  _

  


Soon, she finishes her bottle. Steve presses her upright to his shoulder and pats her back, so she can burp. He thinks about family. What would it be like if she was his? Of course, this baby could never be his; she has nothing to do with him. Still, the point stands. How would he have reacted if any of his past partners had gotten pregnant? Raising a family has always been a pleasant thought in the back of his mind, a  _ maybe one day _ , but that  _ one day _ seemed further and further away the more years passed. Without realizing it, he gave up on the idea. How was he going to raise a family when every day was more and more dangerous? How could he expose a child to the horrors of living with a superhero? It was difficult enough to find a woman to date, and that was a grown woman going in with her eyes open. 

  


The thought never entirely left him, though. The Avengers weren’t the same family they used to be (though God knows, they argued like a drama-filled, extended family that could star in the most over-the-top soap opera), and Steve doesn’t have any family of his own to turn back to. Tony has family, but it all sounds like it’s more painful than anything else.

  


Steve thinks about Tony. What would he do if he were here? Would he only do the bare minimum of what T’Challa’s schedule asks of him, like most of the other Avengers? Or would he throw himself into caring for the baby completely, wholeheartedly, like halfhearted wasn’t a word in his dictionary? Steve thinks he would do the latter. He remembers asking Tony why he goes to orphanages regularly late at night. Tony responded by telling him about how important physical contact is to newborns, and that orphans need volunteers to provide that comfort.

  


Why has Tony disappeared? Where has he gone? Is he okay? Steve doesn’t know.

  


And finally, Steve thinks of his mother. How she was tough when she needed to be tough, and gentle when he needed her to be gentle. He thinks back to the way she talked and moved, and asks himself again and again,  _ what would she do _ . He sings an Irish lullaby to the baby and surprises himself by knowing the whole verse. (He doesn’t think of his father.) (They say that girls come out like their mothers, and boys like their fathers, but surely that’s only when said parent is actually around, right?) He thinks about what it must have been like for his mother, to immigrate from Ireland all the way to America in the hopes of giving her children a better life. Aren’t Steve and the baby the same that way, the children of parents who wanted more for them? Maybe they can be related that way. He likes the thought. This baby needs someone, and there’s no one they can give the baby to that she’ll be safe with. For the first time, Steve thinks that taking care of this baby will actually put  _ him _ at risk. He kind of likes the idea. It’s refreshing. 

  


At some point, while rocking the baby to sleep, Steve comes to a decision. It isn’t something he does at that moment, but the decision solidifies from a vague feeling into concrete thought. He rubs his cheek against the top of the baby’s down-covered hair and breathes in that heavenly, new-baby smell. The baby is falling asleep fast, eyes closing of their own accord. She yawns, a tiny, sweet thing. He presses a kiss to the top of her hair.

  


“Baby doll, sweetheart,” he intones. “ _ Babaidh. _ I’ll take care of you.”


End file.
